


Whoa!

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: Bunniverse, Havenverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 06:42:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10758846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: A weary traveler stumbles across an unexpected party of Elves.  Sass ensues.  Way too much research went into something this devoid of actual plot.





	Whoa!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mirtathor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirtathor/gifts).



> Working title only. If you have a better idea, darlings, you know where to find me. Lindethiel used with permission from Mirtathor (who was having a hell of a time with Elrond in the game - in her own words "He is dead to me now".)

“Whoa…”

“Whoa.”

“Whoa! Whoa!”

No one quite knew who was startled first, but when the lone rider stopped her horse, it was just at the edge of a tattered blue cloth which perhaps once graced a long, elegant table within the Great Hall. Only Erestor and Elrond were still seated on the ground around it. Galdor, Glorfindel, and Gildor were all on their feet, and Lindir had stumbled back to a crouched position with his harp cradled carefully. “Good evening, Lieutenant Lindethiel,” said Erestor without looking up from the cards he held. He chose two from his hand and tossed them face-down at the center – hardly relevant, as most of the others had abandoned their cards, with some now revealed and the game’s current hand ruined.

“Let me guess,” said Lindethiel as she looked around. “Your wives all kicked you out for the evening, and all you could smuggle out on your way was a moldy tablecloth, a few bottles of wine, and a cheater’s deck.”

“Cheater’s deck?” Glorfindel picked up his cards again to scrutinize them, but Gildor chuckled and snatched the cards away, while Erestor looked over his hand, with eyes narrowed at the wandering Elf-lord.

“If anyone is surprised that Gildor offered a cheater’s deck for us to play with, then I have a bridge to sell you. Several bridges, in fact,” said Elrond, who began to collect and shuffle the cards.

Erestor held out his few to Elrond and looked up as the others began to settle around the cloth again. “We are on patrol.” 

Lindethiel scanned the group. “I believe… one of you with that claim.”

“That hurts, m’lady,” pouted Gildor. “Truly, but we are. We are patrolling the gate.”

“The gate,” parotted Lindethiel.

“Indeed.”

“This gate here. The one I just rode through?” 

Gildor tossed his cards down to Elrond when the lord of the valley snapped his fingers insistently. “The very same. We shall note it in the log books,” he stated. “Erestor?”

“Do I look like your scribe?” 

“You look like someone’s scribe. Honestly, who goes on patrol in a robe?” Gildor slid a pair of cards from his sleeve and offered these to Elrond as well. Glorfindel shook his head at Gildor with a frown.

“Someone who was forcibly removed from his office in the middle of the day.” Erestor looked back to Lindethiel. “I was happily minding my own business when suddenly I have a rogue to my left, and a bard to my right, and I am up and out of my chair.”

“It was hardly that easy,” argued Gildor, while Lindir piped up with, “I think I was the one on the left.”

“As much as I am sure you are enjoying this inane banter,” spoke up Galdor, “perhaps there is something of greater importance that we might aid you with?”

“Oh. Uhm…” Lindethiel looked away from Glorfindel and Gildor, who had provided further distraction when Glorfindel pulled additional cards from Gildor’s other sleeve, and focused on Galdor. “Yes.”

Six pairs of eyes were upon the rider. Lindir coughed. The horse awkwardly shuffled his hooves. “Did you have business in Rivendell, or were you just passing through?” prompted Erestor.

Lindethiel cleared her throat, and then nodded at Gildor. “He has another card tucked in his pocket,” she said. “Other pocket,” she added as Glorfindel dug a hand in to search.

“I have one in my back pocket, too,” he said with a smile. “Other pocket,” he drawled when Glorfindel slid his hand in and frowned. 

“Are you sure?” asked Glorfindel incredulously.

“Huh. Not finding one? Better check them both again,” suggested Gildor.

“I have fifty-two cards,” said Elrond, who had just finished counting them a second time.

Gildor huffed and crossed his arms when Glorfindel rolled his eyes and stepped away. “I was certain I put one back there…”

While this was occurring, Erestor silently mouthed to Lindethiel, ‘You are lost.’ Lindethiel did her best to covertly stick her tongue out at him without the others noticing. 

“How may we be of assistance, Lieutenant?” Glorfindel stepped forward with an apple from the basket of food that was set off to the side and offered it to Lindethiel’s mount. 

Quick thinking reminded Lindethiel of a task she had yet to complete, and she withdrew from her saddlebag a sword of great length, the blade of which was wrapped in cloth. “Recently, I had misfortune to engage with an enemy who attempted to use poison against me. It only stained my blade, but I have yet to find anything to remove it.” She unwrapped the cloth to display the blade. 

Elrond looked up mid-shuffle. “Ah, is that the blade of Narmaleth?” he asked with a hint of sorrow in his voice.

“Uh… right.” Lindethiel shrugged. “I mean, it used to be? But I lost mine in the war, and Nar—oh, alright,” she muttered as Elrond stood in one fluid motion and took the sword from her grasp. “Just, uh… right.” She glanced around, but Gildor was whispering something into Glorfindel’s ear, while the fair Elf-lord blushed, and Lindir and Galdor, apparently deciding the hour was late and the master of valley had the situation well in hand, had begun to clean up the impromptu late-night picnic site. Only Erestor was left unoccupied, and he was no help at all as he mouthed to her again: ‘Usually I have to buy someone dinner before I show them my sword.’

Lindethiel had a very good retort that incorporated both the stain and the sword that she was certain would leave Erestor speechless, but Elrond gained her attention a moment later. “How I do miss Narmaleth. Such a joy she was to have around.” Elrond looked far-off in the distance as he reminisced. “Laerdan was one of the first to join me here in Rivendell. I remember how joyous the occasion was when Narmaleth was born. She was the first to be born here in the valley,” he said fondly as he returned the sword back to Lindethiel. 

“A fine remembrance,” spoke up Gildor, who had one hand upon Glorfindel’s shoulder, and the other now pocketed the forgotten deck of cards. “If you will all excuse us, Glorfindel and I are going to patrol the waterfalls for a while.” Glorfindel gave a polite nod, and soon enough, Lindir and Galdor had all else packed away.

“She does not come often to the valley these days,” said Elrond sadly. “She is quite devoted to her father, and his advice is almost as sought as my own. They travel often, and at times, far from these lands.”

“Right now, they are just in Eregion,” offered Lindethiel. “I received a parcel from Narmaleth not long ago, and they were in Echad Mirobel. They were mapping some abandoned school or library or something.”

“If only they would return here. Narmaleth has such a lovely voice. Did you ever have chance to hear her sing with my daughter, Arwen?” asked Elrond. Instead of allowing Lindethiel time to answer, he continued as he handed the sword back. “They are like a pair of nightingales. How I long to hear them sing together again.”

“Mirobel is not that far away. Perhaps I could—“

A bell tolled in the distance. Lindir hoisted a pack – which Lindethiel now knew was the cloth, bound with the remnants of their party within – over his shoulder. “My lord?” he said over the din, and Elrond nodded.

“My wife beckons. If you should have need of food or lodgings, Erestor shall see it provided.” Elrond motioned for Lindir and Galdor to follow him, and soon Lindethiel was left with her horse, her sword, and Erestor.

“You are aware of the fact that of us all, only Elrond is married.” Erestor brushed off his robes as he looked about to make sure nothing was left behind.

“Which is not surprising, because he seems to need the most assistance.” Lindethiel shook her head as she started to wrap the sword again. “Some use he was,” she mumbled. “No, Elrond, I do not want to talk about Narmaleth. I need help with my sword.”

“You actually need help with that?” Erestor held out his hands. “I think he thought you were bullshitting him.”

“What? No. I mean…” Lindethiel held out the sword for Erestor to take. “Maybe I am a little… wayward in my wanderings, but—“

“You are lost.” Erestor smirked and pulled the cloth from the sword. “Lost, and in no danger from this sword. No one is.”

“No?”

“No.” Erestor used the cloth to rub at the stain, and then held the sword back. “How did that get on there?”

“They threw it at me. It was in a glass vial,” Lindethiel recounted.

“This is dye.”

“Really?” Lindethiel looked closer when she took the sword back. “I thought about that, but Ered Luin blue is not so…”

“Sticky?” Erestor held out the cloth as well. 

“I was going to say ‘tacky’,” said Lindethiel.

Erestor smirked. “Sure, but, how many jokes can I make about a tacky sword, compared to the number I can make about sticky swords.”

“I would really appreciate it if you would stop making my sword so—“

“Phallic? Because… it is a sword. It does not need my help. And the dye is called Iron Hills Blue. It gets used to make markings on metal because it sticks easily. It used to be used as a dye, but it is nearly the same as Ered Luin Blue, as you noticed, and that is far easier to make,” explained Erestor. “It has medicinal properties, and can be used as an antidote for some types of poison. In fact, it is one of the least toxic dyes you will find. You will not be able to wash or wipe it off, but if you thrust it into a fire, you can burn it off – though I would suggest doing such a thing outside of the house.”

Lindethiel blinked at Erestor. “You knew that from the moment you saw the sword.”

“Yes,” admitted Erestor.

“And you still made me listen to Elrond reminiscing about my good friend, even though I probably know more about Narmaleth than he does?”

Erestor shrugged. “Honestly? I was hardly paying attention. I was trying to decide which sword joke would be best.”

“Oh! That reminds me – I have a really good one. If you think *your* sword is big, you should—“

Erestor held up his palm to her. “When I said I was brought here under duress, it was not really that far off. I have yet to eat lunch or supper, and Lindir packed barely enough for two.”

Lindethiel squinted her eyes. “Dinner, yes. Seeing your sword afterwards, pass.”

“Dinner, wine, and lots of inappropriate jokes about swords. Nothing more,” promised Erestor. “Unless you change your mind.”

“Not going to happen,” replied Lindethiel. 

“Fair enough.” Erestor motioned with his hand. “After you.”

“Not a chance. I know your tricks,” Lindethiel warned, wagging a finger at Erestor.

Erestor looked amused. “Oh?”

“You just want to walk behind me so you can look at my ass.”

“Oh!” Erestor chuckled. “No.”

Lindethiel pulled a face. “Surrrre.”

“Really, no. I much prefer the other side,” he said, and he leered at her.

“The other—oh, stop,” she said, as she used her free hand to draw a side of her cloak around to cover her chest. “Fine. Tell you what. I will go on ahead and make sure Sogadan has a nice bottle of red for us.”

“And make me walk back? You are too kind.”

Lindethiel smiled at him. “You could always swim back.”

“And risk coming upon Glorfindel and Gildor on ‘patrol’ in the waterfall? No, thank you.”

“Enjoy your walk, then. I am going to ride on over those bridges Elrond wants to sell and go hang in his fancy schmancy house until you get there.” Lindethiel coaxed her horse forward and trotted up the path.

Erestor sighed and brushed off his robes. Another look around revealed that the basket previously containing apples was still on the ground, and he retrieved it before following the tracks left by Lindethiel’s horse.

“Really? At that pace, we are never going to make it to the Hall before Sogadan leaves for the night.”

Erestor frowned and sped his pace a bit, finding that Lindethiel had not gone too far ahead. “What, are you going to fling insults every few paces?”

“No. I am not that big of an ass, you know. Come on.” She patted the saddle in front of her.

Erestor rubbed his chin. “You want me to sit in front?”

“You promise not to let your hands wander if you sit behind me?”

“Fair point.” 

Erestor approached the horse, and Lindethiel heaved a sigh before she scooted forward. Lindethiel waved a hand over her shoulder. “At least you are honest about it,” she said. “Just keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Do you have a mirror?” he asked with a wolfy grin.

“Sorry, what was that? You prefer to walk?” Lindethiel nudged the horse just as Erestor was about to mount, and he lifted his hands in submission. 

“You have bested me, m’lady. I acquiesce to your rules of engagement, difficult though they may be.”

“Just get on the damned horse, Erestor.”

“As you wish.” Erestor was about to pull himself up, when he suddenly stopped and lowered himself to the ground. “On second thought—“

“Really? Oh, come on, I just bathed yesterday! Do you know how hard it is to find a suitable place for it out in the wilds?” 

Erestor shook off the comment. “What? No.” He waved at his attire. “Robes.”

“So? Hike them up,” Lindethiel said. 

“Well…”

“Oh… no. No… Erestor? Really?” Lindethiel shook her head. “Er-es-tor…”

“I told you I was uprooted against my will.”

Lindethiel continued to shake her head. “Pants seem like a necessity, though. Alright, hold on, maybe I have some in my satchel-- although, you are making a face again…”

“Well, I went to the office today without intention of staying long, and other than pants, I may also have decided not to wear—“

“Erestor!” Lindethiel cringed. “Alright. You can sit sidesaddle. In front of me,” she added.

“I am not about to ride sidesaddle up to the front doors of the house,” argued Erestor.

“We can stop just before the last bridge and walk the rest of the way. Or, you can walk the full way and reflect on the importance of undergarments,” suggested Lindethiel.

“Whatever you decide,” shouted Gildor’s voice nearby, “will you please do it soon? You are ruining the mood. Of this very important patrol,” he added quickly at the end.

“Well, fuck,” muttered Erestor.

“Trying to!” shouted Gildor back. A muffled groan, obviously Glorfindel, came from the same general direction.

Lindethiel gave Erestor a pitying look. “You still want to walk?” She patted the saddle before her.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” warned Erestor as he joined her on the horse.

“I am very certain I am the least of your worries around here,” she said. She took hold of one of his hands and set it upon her knee. “There. Better?”

Erestor shrugged, and then gave her leg a squeeze. “A little,” he said.

“Good. Onward, to the fancy schmacy house and the drowning of sorrows in wine, or whatever else we can find in that silly room without tables that seems all the rage around these parts,” said Lindethiel.

“Maybe we will be so lucky as to find Master Elrond there, telling a tale of Narmaleth,” Erestor suggested.

Lindethiel wrinkled her nose. “Goody.”


End file.
